


In Memoriam

by Howling_Alligator



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Minor Character Death, Nausea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Howling_Alligator/pseuds/Howling_Alligator
Summary: It’s okay, it’s okay, he repeats to himself.It doesn’t hurt anymore.-No matter how many times Sam tries to run away from his past, it always manages to keep up with him.





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

> I deleted this fic during one of the lowest points of my life, but getting back to the story after some time made me want to upload it again.
> 
> So here it is, this time for real.

“Father!”

The sight of his parent lying on a pool of his own blood inside the dojo is almost surreal. It feels like a dreadful dream, like a very vivid nightmare Sam will be able to wake up from, but once he finds the Murasama sticking out of his father’s stomach every attempt to escape from reality fails miserably.  _Papai's_  beloved sword, the one he would pass down to the heir of the dojo, has just become the weapon that ended his life.

Sam bites back the urge to scream and runs towards his father. He shakes his shoulders, begs him to wake up. When Sam doesn’t get any response he trembles, tears welling up in his eyes.

_Don’t leave me like this, father. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me._

He gives in to despair and bawls. He calls his mother, his neighbors, anyone who could help him get his father back. Time then becomes a flurry of events and people telling Sam it’s too late to do anything.

His father is dead.

***

They don’t even give Sam the chance to see him one last time. He’s buried after a brief ceremony and Sam has to be restrained while they lower the coffin into the ground. _Please let me see his face, let me see him_ , he pleads to deaf ears.

The details on his father’s features get harder and harder to recall: Sam is no longer sure if his nose was slightly crooked to the right or the left, if his voice was deeper than how it sounded in his memories. In the midst of his frantic thoughts, the people who assisted the ceremony approach him and his family to express their condolences before going back home, to their life and duties.

It’s then when realization dawns on Sam.

One of his father’s pupils, the second best in regards of skills, shakes his hand and stares at him for longer than necessary. His eyes are devoid of emotion; they glint with malice as he poses a silent challenge to Sam:

 _Come and find me, if you dare_.

Sam doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to dislocate all of that fucker’s fingers in a single brutal move even when every fiber of his body is seething with rage. He stays silent and smirks, not giving the bastard the luxury of seeing him in a vulnerable position.

Although the pupil’s family has ties with one of the most powerful cartels in the city, that fact doesn’t discourage Sam from pursuing his newfound goal. If anything, it fuels his desire of getting stronger: he would train and train until he was capable of slicing down enemies with his eyes closed.

And then he would find him.

 _He certainly would_.

***

The same nightmare comes to haunt Sam another night. He finds his father lying lifelessly on his side, the Murasama tearing through his guts; the room smells like blood and a combination of disinfectants, and Sam can’t do anything but stare at his father’s eyes. They are half-lidded and glassy, and no matter how horrifying the whole scene is Sam can’t look away from it.

This time his mouth is ajar as if he’s trying to speak, but no words come from it. Only a trickle of blood and the sound of something gurgling at the back of his throat.

Then Sam wakes up with a start.

Once the contours of his room’s furniture become recognizable he sits up. He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down, beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

Shuddering, he covers his mouth with his hand.

 _It’s okay, it’s okay_ , he repeats to himself.

 _It doesn’t hurt anymore_.

Sam locks himself in the bathroom and vomits.


End file.
